Secrets Are No Fun

Chapter 12

Even though Jamie made me feel better, I came home that day frustrated. "Mom, I'm home!" I yelled as loud as I could.

I guess she heard how angry I was because she ran to meet me by the front door. "Is everything ok, sweetie?"

"I told Jamie that you were going to need surgery and why you were going to need it. She told me that she didn't tell anyone, but for some reason everyone knows. I didn't want everyone to know, mom! I don't want them to treat me differently," I began to cry. Crying was becoming a habit and I secretly hated myself for becoming a sensitive tween.

"This is my fault! I forgot to tell you that I spoke to the social worker at school and she agreed that it would be beneficial for you if you spoke to her once in a while. I also told some of your friends' mom's and I guess they told their kids. I had no idea. I am so sorry," she said as she tried to hug me.

"You think I need to see a social worker? Are you kidding? I am not a nut case, mom. I am a kid. With a mother. Who has cancer! I need YOU. NOT a social worker!" I stomped around the foyer screaming, instantly proving to myself right then and there that crying was definitely a habit. I was turning into a self-absorbed drama queen.

When I felt like I had done enough stomping and my tantrum was coming to an end, I ran upstairs to my room. I thought I'd feel better crying on my bed instead of on the hard floor. And I hoped that Mom would follow after me, of course.

But what I saw when I first walked in to my room did not make me feel better and I yelled at the top of my lungs.

You should know I wasn't normally a scaredy-cat. I was one of those girls who always went with the Scary Group at amusement parks and watched scary movies like The Gooneys since I was eight.

But this was not under my threshold of fear. What was on my computer, in my little pink room, was way scarier than any rollercoaster or movie I ever experienced.

My computer screen was filled with pictures of naked women with deformed boobs. I didn't get a chance to see the pictures clearly because obviously I started crying again, but what I saw was horrifying. There were at least twenty women who weren't wearing anything over the top part of their body. The pictures showed the area in between the waist and the neck, giving me a perfect view of their boobies. Well, I guess that was the point. But their boobs looked terrible.

Each boob had large pink scars running from one side to the other. It looked like it was right out of a horror movie. It also looked like the work of The Evil Breast Cancer Disease.

Mom was right behind me when I started to yell so she got to see the entire show, but my dad came running into my room. He was out of breath. "What's wrong?" He asked. "I thought you saw a mouse again."

One time, my family came home from vacation only to find a dead mouse under my sister's radiator in her room. It was funny because the mouse was dead, and in my neat freak sister's room. She had the biggest temper tantrum in the entire universe and refused to sleep in her room until her carpet was professionally cleaned.

"This is worse than the time with the mouse." I stomped my feet like a baby and sat on my bed. "What are those pictures? And what are they doing on my computer?" I pointed to them to prove my point.

Once Dad realized what was on the screen, he knew he had done something wrong. "It's my fault. I forgot to log off of your computer." He looked sorry for me that I had to see those pictures. He knew how hard this was for me.

The entire time Mom was silent, though. She just sat next to me on the bed and rubbed my back. Finally, after like a lifetime of silence, she spoke: "Your father and I were just researching about my "boo boo." We want to find out the best way the doctors can get rid of the cancer for good." She sounded calm, but I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was afraid of the women in the pictures also.

"So your boobs are going to look like those?" I asked, looking at the naked women on the screen again.

The minute I said that Mom flinched, making the bed creak. I suddenly realized that I was overreacting. They weren't my boobies and my boobies weren't going to look like they were chopped up into little pieces and then glued back to my chest.

"You know, you don't need to make me feel bad. I know that you're scared, Rebecca, but I promise everything is going to be okay. If I didn't know for sure, then I wouldn't make you a promise like this," she looked straight at the screen as she spoke. Then she looked at Dad who took a seat at my desk chair, trying to block the computer.

"Yeah, Bex, everything's going to be great," Dad said.

And he was not the optimist. In fact, Dad was the complete opposite. He worried about every little thing possible. He worried about work, money, and bills. He especially worried about when his next meal would take place. Most of all, he worried about Mom.

Sometimes when you're really quiet, you can hear Dad yell out Mom's name throughout the day. He says that it's because when he's not with Mom, he misses her so much that he just has to yell out her name. Some people would think it is romantic, but my family and I think it's creepy.

I guess I would rather have Dad whispering Mom's name out to the world over anything else. He adored her and would do anything for her. And if he thought that everything was going to be ok, than it would be.

"So when's the surgery?" I asked and leaned my head on Mom's shoulder.

"Three days," he said. His tone sounded happy, but I saw in his eyes that he was worried. That's the Dad I knew.

"Great." Mom put her hand on top of mine as if to say again: "everything's going to be fine."